Afterclap
by Mister Pineapple
Summary: AUShonen AiTwo different lives, two different circumstances, two adjoining properties. People can surprise you when they're being ordinary. Rating subject to change.


Wow, it's been ages, hasn't it? I've finally resorted to writing down sections of stories, then typing them whenever I get a chance. As it is, I'm visiting an old buddy who's nice enough to lend me her computer while she's making dinner. What a cutie, I can't believe that so-and-so dumped her, if she weren't like a little sister to me, I'd go out with her... uh, went off on a tangent there. Anyways, when I wrote this story, it was very stream of conscious, I kept thinking "okay, then what; what happens next; what's he gonna do in response?" to get a snappy right off the top structure, so the style might be a bit weird.

That dude Naruto, and all those guys in his story, they all belong to that cat Kishimoto.

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Ages and ages and ages ago, the Uchiha family owned a private waterfront property. Of course, approximately two ages ago almost the whole family was wiped out in a serious case of mass genocide, save for one person who had no interest in a beach house.

So the whole place was left in neglect, collecting dust and cobwebs instead of memories, while the surrounding land was developed into very profitable ventures. It got around that the place was haunted and the beach was a hobo cemetery, and as a result normally curious beachcombers and kids stayed away from the place. Even cheap thrill seekers crossed to the other side of the street when forced to walk past it.

However, one day an army of repairmen descended upon the place, hammering endlessly, going up ladders and down again. The shatter of falling shingles ripped from the roof was constant and almost musical. After that, plumbers came in droves, as did gardeners, and the window men, and children who snatched whatever scraps they could get before they were shooed away. Within a fortnight shanty towns of clubhouses appeared in every backyard, vacant lot, and available space.

Finally, the local postman fitted in a new postal approved mailbox, and the place looked hospitable, possibly even welcoming.

What a strange thing.

Of course, just as curiosity overcame fear and townspeople inched to every window, keyhole, and crack to catch a glimpse of the building's mysterious innards, the owner made his grande entrance.

Or, rather, a sulky and hostile entrance.

A nondescript black car with tinted windows pulled into the driveway, and out stepped the equally dark new owner. The initial cheerful welcome was turned away by a cold and frosty glare.

And that was how Uchiha Sasuke arrived in town.

He swept from his car to the front door and inside, not even stopping to examine the exotic and delicate flowers the gardeners had so diligently guarded from the marauding hands of little girls hoping to make crowns. The door slammed, his only greeting.

The stunned townspeople stared.

"Wow, dude's a real asshole!" Exclaimed Uzumaki Naruto from his place behind the hedge dividing the Uchiha house from his property next door. Those that weren't dumbstruck agreed, but they wouldn't admit it since Uzumakis and their people were barely tolerated and generally ignored.

He laughed it off, disappearing into his house while people shielded their eyes.

And the weeks passed, and nothing significant happened. No children mysteriously disappeared, pets remained unsacrificed, Chupacabras enthusiasts sighed at the humdrumness of it all. Heck, if anything weird was going on, it was at the Uzumaki place next door, but everyone had long since gotten used to those people.

There really wasn't much news to report on the inside front either. Locals hired for staff positions at the Uchiha place grudgingly admitted that the quarters he occupied were off limits to them. There would be no juicy tidbits of gossip for their benefit.

And that, was...well...that.

Except it wasn't.

One fine morning the weather was so irresistibly nice that even Sasuke himself couldn't stand to stay indoors. The sun was bright overhead and the water looked fine, and the temptation to swim was too great, despite the fact that he tanned worse than a rotisserie chicken.

But it wasn't anything liberal amounts of sun block couldn't cure.

And out he went to his private beach, fully intending to put in a few good laps before breakfast. The pleasantly warm water was clear and sparkling, and he felt somewhat at peace despite the occasional memory of the fun he had there as a child, before his family died. It wasn't so bad though, he thought of himself as a survivor.

But, just as he was returning to shore after his sixth lap, something brushed past his leg and his calf seized up. He attempted to paddle, but the stoniness of his cramped muscle hindered him. He couldn't move too well, and his arms, used so strenuously earlier, couldn't keep him afloat for long.

The beautiful blue water didn't look so inviting anymore.

He refused to let panic seize him, if he was going to die, he wouldn't make a spectacle of himself.

_I guess I'm not as much a survivor as I thought._ He thought before everything went dark.


End file.
